


The Last Sail

by sobachka



Series: Grishaverse One Shots [4]
Category: Nikolai Series - Leigh Bardugo, Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo, The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Volkvolny is back, and Sturmhond!, between soc and kos, canonverse, grishaverse mini-bang 20, plus Pirate!Inej
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:21:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24053572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sobachka/pseuds/sobachka
Summary: King Nikolai takes one final trip aboard his treasures ship, the Volkvolny, as Sturmhond. Another pirate may or may not make a cameo.For the Grishaverse Mini-Bang 2020(this fic has two art pieces to go with it, both can be found on tumblr)
Relationships: David Kostyk/Genya Safin, Nikolai Lantsov/Zoya Nazyalensky, Tamar Kir-Bataar/Nadia Zhabin
Series: Grishaverse One Shots [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1789741
Comments: 6
Kudos: 36





	The Last Sail

It was nearly dusk when they arrived at Eighth Harbor. Rays of sun had just begun to peak out of the waters’ depths, coloring the sky in shades of pink. Their small party had left the Grand Palace unseen, arriving at the port at a ghastly hour of the day. But these precautions were necessary if the King of Ravka hoped to make his silent escape.

She was easy to spot amid the cargo ships that had docked at the port. A sleek schooner with freshly trimmed sails, the bold lettering on the side spelling out a name more familiar to Nikolai than his own,  _ Volkvolny. _

“Isn’t she beautiful?” he asked, his eyes roving over his ship, one he had not seen since he had sailed into the Fold with the Sun Summoner in tow. Now he stood at the docks, his ship slowly rocking with the gentle current, pulling at the rope that tied her down as if eager to be gone. Nikolai found he shared the feeling.

“And they wondered who the next Queen would be,” Tamar said mildly. Nikolai pointedly ignored her, a grin coming onto his face as she handed him a folded parcel. He opened it hurriedly, tossing aside the thin wrapping to reveal a teal coat with shining gold buttons down its front. Without a second’s hesitation, he slipped it on, letting the familiar material wrap around him.

Nikolai straightened his coat, turning eagerly to face his companions. Genya rolled her eye, but he caught the edge of a hidden smile on her face. David didn’t seem to notice that anything had changed, and Nikolai spared a moment to wonder if he knew why they’d come to the docks in the first place. Tolya had a small smile on his face, as though he couldn’t help himself. He fisted a hand over his heart.

“It's good to have you back, Captain,” he said, and Nikolai felt a swell of pride at the title, letting his mind stray from the kingly duties he’d been bound to for two years. As if sensing that, Zoya approached him, her stormy blue eyes taking in his appearance, as if seeing someone different.

“We’ll see you shortly,  _ Moi Servenyi, _ ” she said, bowing her head slightly, as if to say,  _ don’t forget yourself _ . Even in an old coat aboard his ship, Nikolai was no longer Sturmhond, free to do as he pleased. No, he was the King of Ravka, and to her, he must return.

“I certainly hope so, the only other option would be eaten by sharks, and that would be a dreadful waste of such a pretty face," 

Before he could say something he might regret, Nikolai turned to board his ship, the familiar routine of a Captain already coming to him. He began barking out orders to his crew as he stepped onto the ship, taking pleasure in the gentle way it rocked side to side.

He glanced one last time at his friends, Genya and David conversing, and Tamar and Tolya already on the ship. He found Zoya’s blue eyes and nodded one last time in farewell.

_ I am the King of Ravka,  _ he thought,  _ and to  _ her _ , I must return. _

It had been four days of aimless sailing, where the stars and Tolya’s compass were the only items keeping them from getting lost at sea. The sun hung low in the sky, blindingly beautiful as it outlined the subtle shapes in the distance. The contour of an island, The Wandering Isle, and the growing shadow of a ship with high black flags that fought against the strong winds. 

A pirate ship.

Nikolai had been leaning on the  _ Volkvolny's _ taffrail, watching them when Tamar had shown up beside him, her presence as familiar as the sea.

"It would be a shame if they landed here," she said, not looking all that displeased at the thought.

"Yes, I suppose it would," he replied slowly.

"But if they did, I'd bet fifty we can have them gone in a third of an hour," She said, her golden eyes glimmering as dangerously as the edge of her axes, a sly smile on her face. 

"Now, Tamar," he said, "you know very well it would only take a quarter."

Nikolai had looked on with vague amusement as the men had boarded their vessel, more so when they’d attempted to fight him and his crew. He almost felt bad for the lot, truly. How were they to know that the ship contained two Grisha, their King, and his military-trained bodyguards? 

The pirates had been quickly dealt with; some strewn across the  _ Volkvolny’s  _ boards, Tamar’s work, no doubt, and two held aloft by Tolya’s enormous hands, his fists alone keeping them upright. Isaak and Andrei were tying up the others as Nikolai pointed his sword at their Captain’s throat. 

The man was older than Nikolai, nearly twice his age, and judging by his large ship and extended crew members, he’d been at this job for quite a while. Nikolai found himself wondering why he would bother with a small thing such as the  _ Volkvolny _ . It seemed like a cheap deal from where he stood, but perhaps this man still felt the need to prove himself.

Tamar stood behind the Captain, holding him down in case he tried to escape. Nikolai suspected he wasn’t fool enough to try, but still.

“Sturmhond,” the pirate said his name like a curse, spitting at the floorboards of Nikolai’s precious ship.  _ It really is good to be back. _ “They told me about you”

“All good things, I hope?” Nikolai said with a raised a brow, 

“They said the Captain had gone soft, that he’d started making rules when he became too afraid of breaking them,” the man smirked, and Nikolai felt his grin tighten. Tamar shot him a warning look.

“You should always be wary of your sources, you know,” Nikolai said, pressing the tip of his sword against the man’s throat. 

“I prefer to prove them myself,” the pirate replied, his smirk becoming slightly crazed as he leaned into the knife's edge.  _ Do it, _ he seemed to say.

Nikolai was tempted to slit his throat, the way he’d done to other unjust pirates in the past, taught them that Sturmhond could surpass any horrid tales they’d heard. But one voice came through his mind, sharp as lightning, cutting through his thoughts.  _ Moi Servenyi _ . 

He was a king, and he would not end a life so easily before his own subjects, no matter how far from Ravka’s shores they may have sailed. Nikolai pulled back his sword, sheathing it and said, loud enough for everyone on the ship to hear:

“A man weakened by ill-told rumors is not a man at all,” 

The pirate seemed almost disappointed by Nikolai’s words, his eyes catching on something on the hilt of Nikolai’s sword. His grin returned with full force.

“My!” he said, and Nikolai stiffened, realizing just before the man spoke what he would point out, “the pompous  _ royal  _ is too scared to get his hands dirty! He w-”

There was a glint of metal as something whisked past Nikolai, embedding itself in the pirate’s chest. He sputtered, coughing blood onto the  _ Volkvolny’s _ deck. Nikolai whipped his head around to see who had thrown the knife. His crew should know better than to go against their Captain. 

But this was no member of his crew. A girl was crouched on the ship’s deck, her eyes half-closed in silent prayer. She was like a shadow, no one had been aware of her presence until she’d wanted to be seen. She seemed carved from darkness, with deep brown Suli skin and a long braid beneath a black sailor’s tricorne. 

There was a large ship beside the pirates’ that seemed to rise behind her as she stood. Its bow was inscribed with the word  _ Wraith, _ as silent in its arrival as its sailor had been _.  _ It sounded vaguely familiar to Nikolai, though he could not quite put a finger on why.

She approached them, eyes on the bleeding man. The girl did not acknowledge any of the sailors around her, only sat in front of the man and asked one question.

“Where are they?” her voice was quiet, but with nothing besides the wind and the rocking ships, it carried to all ears. Then it clicked in Nikolai’s mind. The  _ Wraith  _ was the ship that had been tormenting slavers all across the True Sea, rumors of its Captain had reached even Ravka’s ears.

The man sputtered, coughing up more blood, but the Captain of the Wraith did not yield. She gripped the bone-hilt of the knife and twisted. Nikolai cringed as the man writhed beneath her touch, crying out.

“The- the ship-” he began, only to be interrupted by another spasm of pain.

“Do not lie to me, and you may die placidly,” she said.

“L-  _ Leinster- _ ” he gasped out, and the Captain only nodded, as though she’d suspected as much, before closing her eyes and drawing the knife from the man’s body. He cried out one last time before going still. The Captain closed her eyes and whispered something that sounded to Nikolai like  _ Sankta Alina, _ but was likely some form of real prayer.

She rose on quiet feet and turned to face Nikolai. 

“Thank you for not killing him,” she said, “until I had what I needed.” 

Nikolai raised both brows. “And what exactly would that be?” he said, though he suspected he knew.

The Captain did not respond immediately, her gaze snapping up from the body to her ship. There was a man standing there, tall and muscular. He eyed the crew warily, but did and said nothing until the girl gestured from him to the body. Then, with a resigned sigh, he hopped onto the  _ Volkvolny’s  _ deck, making the ship rock beneath his weight, and lifted the body off of the ground.

Nikolai was about to protest when the man threw the body overboard unceremoniously, leaving a trail of blood on the wooden floorboards. Would it be too much to hope he would mop it up as well? 

Nikolai turned his attention back to the girl, the Captain of one the most feared Ships to ever cross the True Sea, and raised a brow. An explanation would be welcome right about then.

“We have been tracking the  _ Anam  _ for months, under the rumor that they’d been collecting innocents and hiding them away until they could be sold.” her jaw tightened at her own words, and for a moment she looked distant, and Nikolai wondered what had caused that look. But it was gone just as quickly, her jaw set, as she continued, “Now we know. We’ll be on our way,”

Tamar glanced at Nikolai, a question in her eyes, but he shook his head. The only threat the  _ Wraith’s  _ crew had on them was contaminating the ship with the blood of their enemies. Something the  _ Volkvolny  _ would be willing to forgive her for, no doubt.

“Why attack our ship, then? I thought them merely pirates.” Tamar said, voicing the question in Nikolai’s mind. The corner of the Captain’s mouth tilted upward in a smile as sharp as the edge of one of her knives.

“Likely to hide away, I’ve been told the Wraith is merciless with the unjust.” there was a flash of something in her dark eyes as she turned to leave.

She hopped up onto the  _ Volkvolny’s _ taffrail, ready to climb back onto her own ship, when the Captain turned suddenly to look at Nikolai.

“Not all those who cover are hiding.” she said, her gaze dropping to Nikolai’s silk-gloved hands. “Do not forget that,  _ mahaaraaj, _ ”

And then she’d climbed onto her own ship, and sailed away, leaving behind a stunned crew, and a startled Nikolai.

Isaak was dragging one of the wounded pirates aside, ready to dump them onto their own ship when Nikolai called to him.

“Yes,  _ Moi Servenyi? _ ” he said.

“You study languages, no?” he nodded, “what did that word mean,  _ mahaaraaj? _ ”

Isaak hesitated, looking decidedly uncomfortable before saying “it means ‘your majesty’”

Nikolai had hardly been back on Ravkan shores a day when he called together the Triumvirate, some of the guards, and two special guests from Keramzin to the docks of Os Kervo.

David had just left his side, eager to return to his journal, when Zoya approached him.

“What’s all this for, Nikolai?” she asked, indicating their large group, and the empty port that held only one ship.

“Just a gathering of friends,” he replied innocently. She raised a brow at him. Perhaps he ought to have chosen a more subtle place, but alas, he was fond of the extravagant. 

“ _ Moi Servenyi, _ it’s ready,” Isaak said, and Nikolai beamed, ignoring Zoya’s glare.

“Time to put on a show,” he said.

He went to his ship, the first one he’d ever affixed with foldable wings, among other extras. Well, the first one that hadn’t exploded immediately. He tore off his teal coat, Sturmhond’s coat, and tossed it onto the deck.

He’d had her cleaned and ready for this, and she was just as beautiful as she had always been to him. He let his hand rest on her wood one last time, before signaling to Tamar. She nodded once, then untied the rope keeping his ship docked.

Nikolai watched her go for a moment, the final rays of sun shining through her sails. Wolf of The Waves, he’d called her, and she’d lived up to her name. So had he, for a time.

When she was far enough to become outlined against the dimming sky, David called out a warning. And then, Nikolai watched as his ship, and with it, the man he once was, exploded into a thousand bright and hungry flames.

_ I am the King of Ravka,  _ he thought,  _ and with her, I must remain. _

**Author's Note:**

> Nikolai my kid, why do I always end up hurting him?  
> If you liked it, leave kudos and a comment!  
> ~


End file.
